


Tis a Firm Hand That is Required of the Savage Centaur

by emmykay



Category: Hotblood!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Related, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Rook makes an attempt to trot the boards.  1870's NYC burlesque setting.  Minor violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tis a Firm Hand That is Required of the Savage Centaur

James peeked out of side of the stage from behind the fake velvet curtains. Onstage, Pompeii (not his real name), a gentlemanly-looking centaur with Appaloosa spots on his back half, was performing a tired version of "Chiron and his students and the Maidens." This being closer to the Bowery and its saloons and ballrooms than the Palais Garnier, the actors weren't exactly "Maidens." It was more "some men and women dressed in white drapey sheets as ersatz Roman stola." One of the maidens had a beard, another a very visible wooden leg. 

Not that the audience was comparing the show to their personal study of Hesiod's collected works. Someone toward the back, a slick, black-haired fellow with a cigarette, hollered, "Take it off!" 

James admired Pompeii's professionalism as he went through the performance, deaf to the catcalls and heckles. It probably helped this was pantomime. Actually speaking the words in this setting would have likely broken any right-thinking sentient being.

The Hippodrome wasn't the classiest burlesque in New York City. Hell, it wasn't the classiest burlesque on the street. The stage manager, a fat, fair-haired Cockney cigar-sucker named Florence, couldn't even be bothered to differentiate between the Greek and the Roman names and mythos, not even well enough for pastiche. But. James needed the work. And it catered to both humans and centaurs. It was only lucky he had been walking by when he overheard the stagehands discussing the abrupt vacancy.

In the past few weeks, James had done everything from moving furniture to painting sets, taking tickets, sweeping and mopping, and rough carpentry. The manager had been willing to give him bed and board and a small pittance. That is, until today, about half an hour before curtain rise. Seemed like the other of the two centaur attractions had taken off for another show.

He had been roped into taking that fellow's place. Florence promised a bonus; double his current pay. (Personally, James thought double very little was still very little but it was better than nothing.)

The faces of the avid watchers, humans and centaurs, caused a bad taste in James' mouth. The facepaint smelled terrible. The costume was ridiculous. He had not grown up aspiring to this. 

However. He needed the money. _Focus on the money._

The curtain went down to scattered applause. The reedy voice of a girl singing "She was only a farmer's daughter, but she sure knew about a lot about planting," floated to where James stood. Pompeii jogged off-stage. 

"Good job," James said.

Pompeii picked up a small pot of kohl and looked in the mirror, neatening up his eyelines. "Thanks," he said, his smile crooked. He saw the fake leopard cloak robe and the leather rig James was wearing in the reflection. "You're doing the savage number?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck," he said. Even if humans did it, centaurs never wished broken legs on anybody. Broken legs in whatever context was bad luck. 

"The crowd is restless today," James said.

Pompeii looked around, and then leaned forward and said, "Watch out for Nero. He's got something against centaurs. He's the reason the others have left."

"Why do you stay?"

Pompeii looked philosophical. "Not all of us have book learning, like you. Anyway, I've had worse jobs, and being on stage - that's it for me." He paused. "Sometimes, it helps to focus on just one audience member. Perform for them." Softly, "Remember what I said about Nero."

"Thanks," James nodded and stepped onto the stage, careful of the gas footlights. Nero, the human actor with a baby face and hard eyes, snickered.

The girl warbled her final lines. Florence came out and announced, "'Tis a firm hand that is required of the Savage Centaur!" The curtain opened.

Nero stood, perfectly dressed in black tails and top hat. James posed next to Nero, in his most convincing threatening "primitive" stance. He just felt foolish. His eyes swept across the audience. There. That sharp-faced, black-haired man who had cat-called earlier. He was sitting apart from the rest of the audience, watching intently. James felt a rush to show that primate a thing or two.

Nero mimed putting a rein and bridle on James, who repulsed it. The actor tried again. James nimble-hoofed backward. Nero pulled out a riding crop. 

The sharp-faced man's eyes suddenly narrowed. 

Warned by the audience member, James flinched and missed being struck directly across the chest with the crop. As it was, he was struck across his shoulder. 

James flushed, heating his cheekbones. It was supposed to be a mimed threat! Not an actual hard hit! He snatched the crop out of Nero's hand, snapped the shaft in half and dropped it on the ground, stamping on it until it was nothing but splinters.

Nero backed up, hands up in surrender. When James made to leave the stage, Nero grabbed the flimsy fabric of James' robe and ripped it off his shoulders, exposing his entire naked torso. James reared, and spun on his back hooves, furious. He faced Nero, who dropped the robe. Gasps emerged from the audience.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the sharp-faced man. He had stood up, clapping, grinning around his cigarette. The curtain fell, cutting off James' vision of the sharp-faced man. James growled, and a pale-faced Nero ran off the stage.

Florence shouted as he rushed in front of the curtain, "Tis a firm hand that centaur had, eh? And a good hard step, too! And now, Nellie is going to sing for you."

"She didn't know anything about canning, but she sure loved the pickle," trilled the singer.

Pompeii stood accidentally on purpose in front of Florence, blocking him as he stormed off the stage, but not before James heard Florence yowling in anger about his behavior. In high dudgeon, muttering about how he should have kicked Nero in the face instead of just breaking the crop, James went to the boarding house to hurriedly wash, dress and grab his carpet bag. He needed to be out of there before the show ended. 

He spent the night walking through the cold. As his fury faded, James had nothing but regret. That was the end of it, he thought. No more bed and board. A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. At least the audience got their desired skin, even if was only that of a male centaur. The image of the black-haired audience member flitted across his thoughts. He had something to thank that man for. Too bad he'd never see him again.

He cantered his way up Broadway to the genteel environs of 5th Avenue, slowing when necessary due to the tight traffic, reaching the employment agency just as it opened. He had haunted the place plenty in better shod days. He hoped his current lived-in appearance didn't ruin his chances. 

"Ah," said the clerk. "Something did come in that might be right up your alley." He handed James a packet of papers and some tickets. "Somebody I know needs a secretary. You're to meet him in Wyoming in two weeks."

James left the agency, vastly relieved. Wyoming. A new place with no memories and no one to recognize him. It couldn't have come at a better time. After all, nothing could be worse than this last job, could it?

**Author's Note:**

> I have a personal joke when I get into a new fandom; "Is there a stripper AU in this fandom?" And I tried to write one for Hotblood! (because stripper!Rook, hurr-hurr), but somehow his character and some research into the history of burlesque in New York City turned into this.


End file.
